“Let me buy you a drink. Beer?” I check, nodding at the bottle in his hand.
“Mmhmm.”
He downs his bottle, and I can’t help but watch his lips around the rim or the way his throat moves as the alcohol slides down.
“What can I get you?” That’s the bartender.
Feeling like I’ve been caught staring at Carrick, my face flames.
“Um, two beers, please.”
The bartender deposits two bottles on the bar just as Carrick puts his empty one down.
I’m digging in my bag for the money to pay when I see Carrick handing a twenty over.
“Hey, I was supposed to buy you a birthday drink.” I frown.
“Call it a welcome-to-the-team drink from me.”
“Well, thank you. But that kind of defeats the purpose of me buying you a birthday drink.”
I lift my bottle to his and chink it, and then I take a drink.
“So, Andi—what’s that short for?” he asks me.
“Andressa.”
I did tell him my full name before in the garage, but clearly, he’s forgotten. Then again, he probably has a lot of women’s names to remember.
“Andressa…” He rolls my name around his mouth.
I love the way it sounds in his Irish lilt, the way his tongue rolls on the S. It sends shivers hurtling down my spine.
“Of course, you did tell me earlier. So, why Andi instead of Andressa?”
“Because Andressa is a bit of a mouthful, and it’s just what everyone has always called me.” My dad started calling me Andi. It apparently drove my mum mad until she finally gave in.
Carrick raises his eyes, and I can read the sexual innuendo all over his face.
“A mouthful can be a good thing.” He grins sexily. “Andi is a boy’s name, and you’re far from a boy. No, Andressa…that’s a beautiful woman’s name. It’s perfect for you.”
Oh, he’s good.
I feel him move in even closer to me. My heart starts to beat harder and faster than I’ve ever known it to do before.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Unable to look at his face, I keep my eyes on his chest. “You’re pretty rich in lame pick-up lines.”
“That’s not all I’m rich in.”
As I look up, I see him flash a glance down, causing my eyes to focus on the very prominent bulge in his pants.
Good God.
And that breaks the spell he was weaving over me.
I turn back to the bar, leaning into it, I put my bottle down and rest my elbows on it. “You really shouldn’t talk to me like this.”
He rests his back against the bar, but I can feel his eyes on me. “And how exactly should I talk to you?”
I slide my eyes to his. “Like you would speak to any of your mechanics.”
“How do you know I don’t speak to Ben like this? And Robbie? He and I have something special going on.” He winks cheekily before taking a swig of his beer.
A laugh escapes me.
Cutting it off, I stare ahead. “Seriously, we need to draw a line here. So, let me just lay it out for you—”
“Perfect. Your place or mine?”
“Jesus, can’t you be serious for one minute?”
He angles his body toward mine. “I am being serious.” The tone in his voice screams a totally different kind of serious to mine.
“So am I.” Straightening my spine, I turn to face him. “Exactly how much have you had to drink tonight?”
His brows pull together. “Not enough that I can’t get it up. And even if I was wrecked, I can guarantee I would have no problem getting it up for you.”
Then his eyes do that thing they do, running the full length of my body, giving a lazy perusal. And it irks the hell out of me. He wouldn’t treat his male mechanics this way, so he definitely doesn’t get to do it with me.
“Let’s just cut the comedy. You need to stop with the flirting and the sexual innuendos. You and me – not going to happen. I don’t go with drivers. It’s a rule of mine.”
He frowns. “You don’t go with drivers?”
“I don’t sleep with them.”
“What I was suggesting wouldn’t involve sleep.”
“Yeah, I got that memo. But if you’re wanting sex tonight or any other night, it’s not gonna be with me. Drivers are off-limits for me, especially ones I work for. Now, thanks for the drink.” I pick my bottle up. “And have a great rest of your birthday.” I turn to leave.
“That’s it?” he says, his voice pulling me back to him.
I give him a strained smile. “Yeah. That’s it.”
“So, we can’t even be friends?”
I give him a suspicious look. “You want to be friends?”
“Why do you sound so surprised?”
“Um…because less than thirty seconds ago, you were trying to get into my pants.”
“Look”—he scratches his cheek—“the flirting…it’s just the way I am. I don’t mean any offense. But I like you. I think you’re cool. I’m guessing, as you’re new here, you don’t have many friends—aside from John—so I’m saying, let’s be friends.”
I ponder on it for a minute. Is it a good idea to be friends with Carrick? Probably not. But I’m going to be working for the guy, so friends seems logical. Not good friends. Just work buddies.
“Friends…okay, I can do that.”